The Aftermath
by Jacqueline King
Summary: What life is this we live anyways? A worthless existence, save for our singular pursuit to regain what we never had.


**Author's Ramble:** Another one of those "I should be posting something else, but I found this thing I wrote a while ago" sort of things. I got the challenge off of Seventh Sanctum. Sort of a way to help with writer's block. It hasn't helped all that much, unfortunately.

**Challenge:**_The story starts on a battlefield. During the story, there is a fight to the death. The story must have a grave robber at the beginning._

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We cannot feel. It is our curse. Or, perhaps it's more accurate that our curse is that we can remember when we _could_ feel. The others do not share this with us. They follow blindly, empty shells and empty minds. They stand beside me, waiting as I survey the ground. There are bodies everywhere from the heartless. Thousands upon thousands lay twitching and slowly melting into darkness once again. What became of their existence is unknown to me. Purgatory seems like a good alternative to what this place brought. Death and betrayal, memories that will never leave me be… I envy (for lack of a better word as to how I "feel") their ability to live in utter one-tracked minds, with no thoughts. Just animal instinct channeled into battle. Fighting until they were vanquished, then sweet relief of this universe.

If only all of us could have no hearts, and no memory.

"The boy must be close then," I tell the Nobodies to my left and right. They do not move. They have no orders. Without orders, they will wait patiently, like a dog for its master's command. "Scout out. Find him."

There is the body of a girl, her honey hair in large curls around her face. Someone is weeping over her, a man with a shock of blond hair and a large chunk of flesh missing from his arm. He cries until his cries become whimpers, and whimpers till his whimpers stay silent. His eyes hold a vacant glaze. He too has the privilege of passing on through this desolate place, perhaps to the same place that the woman is now. I find myself over beside the fallen two, and look them over thoughtfully.

For a moment, I find myself with an odd sensation, almost the feeling of jealousy, if I can recall. No matter, it passes swiftly, and my thoughts return to the aftermath of the great battle.

The destruction only registers as a small threat in my mind. I am more concerned about the small object held in the girl with honey hair's hand. A small vial, filled with soft glowing green light. My gloved fingers reach out and grasp at the small round bottle containing the essence of life that could have saved her. My eyes flicker down towards the bodies of the man and woman, noticing how her arm was once stretched out, now folded slightly into her chest due to the dead man pressed against her.

She had died offering him life.

A small, unusual thought enters my mind. _Ironic. _I quickly brush it off and pocket the vial, stepping over the blond man's blackened and lacerated arm. Just as I am about to move on, searching for someone who may be of use to me in capturing my quarry, I notice the blackened arm twitch to life. I pause, turning back to stare down at the man.

His eyes are opened, glazed, but not dead.

"Give. It. Back," his slackened lips growl. Ice blue eyes stare at me. Anger, hate, pain, horror, aggression, love—they stare at me through those eyes. I stare back.

"You wish to heal yourself?" I ask, pulling out the glowing bottle and staring down at it. "It will not heal your arm. I doubt anything may heal it."

"No." He does not speak, but hisses his words at me through the battle of feelings, emotions, thoughts rushing through his dying mind. "It's _hers. _Give. It. Back."

I let out a small breath of what would be laughter. "She is dead. She has no use of this. You do though. It could at least heal your…" I look him over once more. His side is darkened with the stains of blood, now drying into dark cloth. "Your other wounds, I suppose. Give you enough strength to get back to your little town."

"Will you give it to me, then?" Hi shortness is only to be expected. He is dying amongst the dead bodies of his fellows and countless heartless.

"No. You will not use it for yourself. You will attempt to save her. I told you. She is dead. I saw them strike her down. She hadn't a chance."

"_You bastard! YOU WATCHED HER!" _His voice echoes across the great maw, shaking the stones and causing some of the lingering Nobodies to turn slightly, not curiously, just perceptively to see if this outbreak would cause new changes in order. I was becoming bored and tired of this man. "_YOU WATCHED AS THEY RIPPED HER HEART OUT!" _

"No one saved me from getting mine clawed out," I say dryly and lean forward over the man. He has no weapon, as the sword he carried required two hands and the one he could use is tightly wrapped around the dead woman. "Are you quite done?"

"Never," he swears, but his eyes are unable to focus, and the effort used to shout at me has worn him thin. He will die soon. And I will let him, as that seems to be what he wants.

"Well I am," I reply flatly, pushing the man away from my face and stepping over his back. Even after I pushed him down, he still continues to cradle the dead girl, seemingly unable to let go.

What a pathetic existence of humanity.

I step around bodies, when I feel the tug on my being to disappear, that I am needed elsewhere. I glance quickly to the Nobodies. They seem to be on a trail. I will be back soon enough.

I let the darkness take me.

I appear in a narrow passage of stone above the valley of the maw. Jagged rocks frame the way, alluding to the violence that had taken place below. Before me, I see one of my own, kneeling down and clutching his torn chest. Darkness is swirling around the wounds, eating him through the holes.

I should not say "one of my own". None of them mean anything to me. Not even our leader. I will do as I am told for him, simply because of his ultimate goal, which we both share. This is the only obligation I have to him—to the Organization. I do not seek the ghosts of feeling, of what love or any other emotions were like unlike the younger members. Fools. All of them. Seek the source, not the ghosts. Seek a heart, and then seek feeling.

But Axel had followed his would-be-heart and made this whole mess, along with the silver hair boy who took away our keyblade wielder.

I was lost in thought for just a moment, but then number IX speaks, hand outstretched towards me.

"Saïx… help… me…"

"You are fading. It cannot be stopped."

"Potion… elixir? Any…thing… please…"

"Was it the keyblade wielder?" I cannot be bothered with the coward's attempt at life. What life is this we live anyways? A worthless existence, save for our singular pursuit to regain what we never had. If IX is incapable of even this single reason to existence, he does not deserve it.

"Y-yes…. Saïx, please…potion…"

"Which way?"

"Through… there…" He points a shaking gloved hand backwards, towards the back passage leading down towards the maw. "Still more… heartless… there…. Holding him off…"

"Hm. You did good to distract him from the battle, number IX. Master Xemnas will be pleased."

He stares through the darkness—it has almost completely consumed him now, he fought it off better than I'd seen any other Nobody do—appalled as I walk past him towards the passage he indicated.

"Saïx… please."

"I told you. You are fading. Accept it, Demyx. Accept the relief of the burden of life." I stop, turn and find the potion in the pocket of my coat. I hold it there, feeling its soft glow warm my fingers through icy gloves.

He stares at me, showing expressions that do not belong on our faces. Was he returning to his heart in death? No, he was only afraid. That emotion seems to carry. It is an animal emotion, and number IX wears it well. I pull out the vial, tossing it aimlessly into the air a few times as I watch him complete the fade. His eyes slowly close after he stares at the potion for a moment, and he is gone.

I throw the potion up once more, and neglect to catch it. It smashes into millions of pieces around my feet, the liquid staining the stone light green before it absorbs into the cracks. The glow dissipates, and all that is left is the shards of glass.

I feel another pull on my being. I step on the pieces as I walk through the portal of darkness. The Nobodies have found the boy. It is time to see how far he has come.

He will give us the hearts we seek.


End file.
